Chapter Eighty-Eight: Challenge

October 10, 2002, Peking University Stadium.

After the successful National Football School Youth Invitational held the year before, the tournament had gradually begun to attract the attention of fans and the media across the country. The clearest sign was that more sports outlets had started covering it. Even for a round-of-sixteen match in the under-nineteen-eighty-nine age group like today's, reporters from more than ten media organizations nationwide had come to photograph the game.

Though rivals by trade, and though the more influential outlets all competed fiercely with one another, at a match like this every reporter seemed quite relaxed, chatting with familiar colleagues before kickoff.

After a few words, a relatively young reporter suddenly asked an older one beside him, “Is that tall fellow from Yunjia a player too? He’s a whole head taller than the others. This is the eighty-nine age group, isn’t it? He’s only thirteen and already that tall?”

The veteran glanced over and replied lightly, “You didn’t do your homework again, kid. That tall one is Long Bisheng from Yunjia Tianyu’s eighty-nine squad. He just turned thirteen not long ago. One meter eighty-five. The tallest player in the country for his age group. He was already one meter eighty last year.”

“So tall, and he still doesn’t go play basketball?” said the young reporter, who himself was only one meter seventy, sounding faintly aggrieved.

“That’s nothing. There are quite a few big youngsters in this age group. Dalian has a center forward who’s one meter eighty-three, and he performed even better than this one last year. Kids these days just keep getting better physically,” the older reporter said offhandedly.

“Damn, Hubei’s got a big one too,” the young reporter suddenly cried, pointing toward the Hubei Ejinlong Football School.

“What are you shouting for? You think Hubei has someone even taller than Long Bisheng?” The veteran seemed displeased by the fuss, but when he turned and looked toward the Hubei side, his mouth fell open. “That man... that’s Cai Sheng! No mistake, Cai Sheng, former starting center forward for the national team! Isn’t he the head coach of Wuhan Yazhi’s reserve team now? What’s he doing here?”

“Cai Sheng? The center forward from Xu Genbao’s Olympic squad, the one they used to call the number one giant striker in Asia?” The young reporter peered carefully, then finally confirmed it. “It is him. Still as thin as ever. But he’s only thirty-one, isn’t he? He’s retired already?”

“He retired last year. His height was a burden, and his stamina was never good. His form declined pretty quickly, and he couldn’t hold a starting spot in Wuhan anymore. But he’d been studying coaching for years already. Now he’s the head coach of Wuhan Yazhi’s reserve team. No reason at all for him to have come here...” The older reporter frowned in thought.

Ding Yu embraced the coach of Wuhan Ejinlong Football School’s eighty-nine squad the moment they met. He and the coach, Pan Kai, had worked together for a time before and knew each other fairly well. After they parted, Ding Yu smiled and asked, “What brings former international Cai here today? Does he enjoy watching this kind of match too?”

Pan Kai turned and glanced at Cai Sheng, who stood not far away, then said softly, “He came this time for personal reasons... our defender Cai Guoqing is his nephew.”

Ding Yu nodded in sudden understanding. There were no reserve-team matches for the clubs in October; that was why he himself could come to Beijing. Cai Sheng was also a reserve-team head coach, so taking advantage of the break to check on his nephew was hardly strange.

After exchanging a few words with Cai Sheng, Ding Yu returned to his players and began laying out the tactics.

“We’ll stick to our usual approach,” he said to them all. “Build from midfield, each of you do your own job, bring out your strengths, and that will be enough. We’re still using a four-four-two today. Goalkeeper: Wu Bufan. Defenders: Yang Yong, Li Jie, Liu Jun, Zhao Yi. Midfielders: Hu Gandang, Zhou Wei, Zhang Yi, Dai Guangming. Forwards: Zhong Tao and Long Bisheng. I think all of you know very well what you’re supposed to do out there, so I won’t say more. Our opponents today are also a side with strong collective power. I ask only one thing of you: stay focused at all times on the pitch, and give everything you have.”

“Understood!” the players answered in unison.

Ding Yu waved his hand. “Go on, warm up!”

As they stretched, pressing one leg down at a time, Zhou Wei lowered his voice and said to Long Bisheng beside him, “Long, you’ve got to step up today. The players who got minutes in those three group matches all did really well. Your performances were poor... and you know, what we show now might directly affect whether we get a professional contract in the future. You can’t lose heart at a time like this.”

Long Bisheng felt a warmth stir in his chest. Zhou Wei was usually all grins and nonsense, carefree to the point of seeming irreverent, but with friends he was beyond reproach. He nodded. “I know. Since I’m playing today, I’ll make sure to show what I can do.”

In the three group-stage matches, Long Bisheng had gotten on the field every time. He started one and came off after a little more than seventy minutes; in the other two he came on as a substitute and played only a little over ten minutes each. He had not scored, though he had provided one direct assist. His performances had been middling.

Indeed, his showing in this year’s three group matches was even a shade worse than last year’s. After all, in the final group match the year before he had been quite eye-catching. The main reason was that this year Ding Yu had not designated any single core player, emphasizing the whole instead. And Long Bisheng’s role was that of an unglamorous tactical center forward, so naturally he did not stand out.

More importantly, before the tournament began, Ding Yu had spoken to him privately and asked him not to display how much his footwork had improved. To put it more plainly, he wanted Long Bisheng to focus as much as possible on contesting aerial balls and flicking them on, while reducing his chances to handle the ball at his feet. Just like last year, he was to become a standard giant striker strong in the air and weak on the ground.

While ordering Long Bisheng to play that way, Ding Yu had also instructed the other players not to look for him with ground passes during matches. Only when playing high balls were they to direct the ball toward Long Bisheng’s head.

Faced with this somewhat unreasonable demand, Long Bisheng obeyed without reservation. Yet at such a time, his weakness in adaptability was laid bare. The result was that he looked even worse than the year before. During matches, because he had to constantly watch himself and avoid using his technique on the ball, his mind was distracted, and he could not devote himself wholly to the game.

Fortunately, after three matches he had gradually begun to adapt to this treatment and this way of playing. Besides, the team was not built around him, so there was not much pressure in the adjustment. But in the eyes of others, it naturally seemed that this big fellow had not improved at all compared with last year, though in truth his leap and his ability to challenge for headers and lay them off had both increased quite a bit.

“I’m already used to this kind of match,” Long Bisheng said to Zhou Wei with a smile. “Anyway, all I have to do is move the ball quickly after it comes to my feet and go up for the high ones. Just give me a few good balls from the flank, all right? I was unlucky last match. That header almost went in.”

“Long, you still haven’t scored in an official match, have you?” Li Jie said from nearby. “You’d better think of a good celebration. Once you score, make sure you celebrate properly!”

“Don’t distract him,” Hu Gandang shot Li Jie a glare, then turned to Long Bisheng. “Remember this: once you’re on the pitch, don’t think about anything else. Just play.”

Feeling the sincere encouragement of these close friends from the dormitory, Long Bisheng was deeply moved. But he had never been good with words when it came to expressing his feelings. He only nodded hard, with all his strength.

At that moment, the referee signaled to both coaches that the match was about to begin. The warmed-up players ran one after another onto the field, and Long Bisheng was of course among them.

As was customary, before kickoff the players of both sides lined up to shake hands as a gesture of friendship. That too was standard in youth matches of this kind. Since the two clubs had always maintained good relations, the atmosphere during the handshake was cordial, and players like Dai Guangming were even greeting friends they knew on the other side.

Naturally, though, there was an exception.

Among the Hubei team was a rather tall fellow himself, about the same height as Li Jie, who had been looking at Long Bisheng with open hostility the whole time. When Long Bisheng reached him and extended his hand, the boy said fiercely, “You’re Long Bisheng, right? I’m Cai Guoqing. In this match, don’t even dream of winning a single header over me.”

Long Bisheng froze for a moment, then nodded, let out an “oh,” released his hand, and moved on to shake hands with the others.

Several Yunjia Tianyu players nearby could not help laughing aloud. For such a burly, menacing-looking fellow to share the same name as that famously delicate-faced pop singer was simply too funny.

Yet Dai Guangming and Zhou Wei were looking at Cai Guoqing with some puzzlement, and Wu Bufan looked as if he wanted to say something, only to swallow it in the end.

“What the hell is with that guy? He and Long have some kind of grudge or something? Why was he so rude?” Zhou Wei asked Dai Guangming as they walked back toward their own half after the handshake. Wu Bufan beside them also wore a displeased expression.

“He’s not the sort who likes bullying people. His temper’s usually pretty good too,” Dai Guangming said after thinking for a moment. “Maybe there’s some reason for it... But he really does know how to defend against big center forwards. Don’t forget who his uncle is. If Long can beat him, that means Long’s level is already very high.”

“I hope he can,” Zhou Wei said, uncharacteristically lacking confidence.

A bit late today, so don’t blame me.

After today, I’ll be stepping over the threshold into my thirties. For some reason, I don’t feel much of anything at all... heh.